


Penance

by writingwithwings



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Chara is gone, Gen, Non-graphic suicide, Some hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 04:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5233280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingwithwings/pseuds/writingwithwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sans confronts Frisk in the hall of judgement once again. The kid was back on a killing spree; Sans had lost count on how many they’d done one. It didn’t matter, though. This confrontation was his favorite part of the run, and he planned to savor every moment.<br/>But something's different about this time. Frisk is different. Why aren’t they attacking? And for that matter…why won’t they dodge?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Penance

_Penance: Voluntary self-punishment inflicted as an outward expression of repentance for having done wrong._

* * *

 

The click of Frisk’s oversized boots against the pristine floor echoes throughout the hallway. Sans waits for them in the middle of the hall, a wispy trail of blue streaming from his left eye and a grim, terse smile on his face. He’s done this so many times, and he’s prepared. He knows Frisk is prepared, too; they got better and better each time they faced off against him, and as a result, significantly harder to kill. Regardless, it was the only part of this run he could ever look forward to. In fact, he absolutely _savored_ it. It was one of his life’s few pleasures, aside from his break time at Grillby’s, and his occasional MTT performance.

Frisk stops before him. Sans takes in their appearance: same striped shirt, ruddy face, gleaming knife, and thick coating of dust on their hands. It was hard to believe that he ever felt compassion for the demon. Once upon a time he had loved them, as had all the other monsters. He played silly pranks on them and took them out to Grillby’s and stacked hotdogs on their head.

But those were simpler, happier times. Before the ungrateful little brat decided to reset their happy ending, and become a murderer.

“Heya,” Sans greets, his voice chillingly calm. “…you’ve been busy, huh?”

Frisk stares at him blankly. The knife clutched in their hand doesn’t even move. Frisk never was a child of many words.

“So…well, I _would_ have a question for ya, but I think I already know the answer.” He gives a lazy wink. “I won’t bore you with my usual spiel. Since you’ve heard it a few times before.”

The stream of blue from his eye intensifies.

“This is my favorite part, ya know,” he continues. “Everyone has a favorite part of a story, right? Like how Papyrus always loved when Fluffy Bunny made their first friend.” He looks up at Frisk, grin broad. “Well, this is _my_ favorite part of the story. I live for this very moment, here with you in this hall.”

Once again, Frisk does not move. Sans stares at them. Frisk usually walks towards him by now, a sudden, twisted smile sprouting on their face. But it seems the kid didn’t have any intentions of moving. The smile isn’t there, either.

After a moment, Sans shrugs. “Look, I can’t stop you, kid. You know that, I know that. I gave up on trying a long ago. We’ll fight, I’ll put a few dents in ya, and you’ll kill me by the end. I even downed another bottle of ketchup for the occasion. It’ll look like I’m bleeding all over the place, which I know a freak like yourself will find exciting.” Again, Frisk does not react. Their eyes are mostly vapid, with a hint of something else. Is that…exhaustion? Sans nearly scoffs. Seems like the kid was finally running out of steam from all the runs, just like him. Didn’t mean he had any plans to go easy on them, though.

“Guess there’s no use wasting more time,” Sans determines. He stretches out his hand, blue magic crackling around it, as he summons his first and strongest attack. A pair of gasterblasters materialize by his side, pointed directly at the child in front of him. “After all, as you probably know by now, on days like this…kids like you…” He looks up, grin broad as ever and his eyesockets a solid black. “Should be burning in hell.”

Sans unleashes the attack. Frisk doesn’t even move. He watches their health points plummet at a rate that mimics the first time he ever fought them. The points hit zero and Sans hears the audible, satisfying crack of their breaking soul. When the blue smoke clears, Frisk is dead and gone. Sans stares at the spot they were moments ago.

“Heh, that was…easy,” he mutters to himself. Did the kid _really_ just do nothing? He shook his head. It didn’t matter. They’d be back soon enough.

And they were. Frisk returned after a few moment, their face still emotionless, and they stopped at the same spot as before.

“…welp, I would normally comment on your expression,” Sans starts, “but, uh, you’re not giving me much to work with here. Eh, doesn’t matter. Time for round two.”

He uses the same attack; and again, Frisk’s soul shatters upon impact. Once more, Sans revels in the moment of his sweet revenge. But when they return once again, and die a third time to the same attack, he is baffled by their lack of skill.

Although…now that he thought about, they had done _very_ poorly on this run. He had kept an eyesocket on them from time to time, and they met their end a lot more than he’d ever seen before. In fact, he lost count of the number of times they’d died during their fight with Undyne. Not to mention the way their hands trembled as they killed monsters in Snowdin, or when they lost the contents of their stomach shortly after murdering his brother. He had figured they were just cold, and that their Pomeraisin was spoiled or something. They seemed to have pretty awful luck...not that it wasn't justified. The more they suffered, the happier Sans was. 

Shortly after his musings, Frisk returns for round four. 

“Hey pal, here’s a tip…’case I bonked you on the head too hard and you forgot.” His tone borders impatient. He hadn’t even gotten to the good stuff yet; when Frisk would jump around helplessly amidst his flurry of bone attacks. His strong attack happened to be the most boring to kill them with. “I start with my strongest move. Keep an eye on the gasterblaster positions just before they fire if you want to dodge. Got it? Let’s try again.”

He powered up his magic and attacked once more. Frisk didn’t move a muscle. He watches as their body becomes rigid and collapses beneath the magical assault, their soul cracks, and they vanish back to their save file. When they come back again and stand before him, they don't so much as blink.

He clenches his teeth tighter together. They weren’t really getting tired…right? What ever happened to their hearty enthusiasm in taking a kill, or their poorly-concealed rage every time he ended their miserable life? He found himself wishing the maniacal version of Frisk was back, just to ease the strange, building tension between them.

“Ok, so you completely fail at getting past my special attack,” Sans says, “That’s…that’s pretty pathetic for someone who’s had an awful lot of practice.” Frisk doesn’t respond to the insult. Sans sighs and continues. “Alright, fine. I dunno about you, but I think a fight like this is kinda boring. How ‘bout I start with something a little easier?” He cast aside the gasterblasters for a moment, conjuring up a bone attack instead. “Let’s see how you do with this.”

The bones hurtle towards Frisk, but they don’t even react, and don’t so much as flinch as each one docks a health point away from them. They do wince after a couple, but cover it up with the smallest of smiles. But there’s nothing malicious about this smile. If anything, it’s melancholic; the type you’d expect to see on an old person nearly their death, not a ten year old. Sans clenches his fist in frustration, accidentally increasing the frequency of the attack and killing Frisk on the spot.

“Heh…oops.”

He wills himself to relax. This had to be a plan of sorts. The kid wasn’t stupid. They were plotting something. When Frisk returned, Sans didn’t bother with introductions.

“Let’s go,” he said bluntly, and started another one of his bone attacks.

However, he purposefully aimed it away from Frisk. There was absolutely no way the kid could get hit by it.

And Frisk _did_ react this time. They darted over to where the bones were being hurled and ran right into them.

"What the hell?" Sans sputtered, his attack wavering slightly as he lost a hint of his usual, cool composure. _The freak has a death wish now? Why not just reset already if they’re not gonna fight?_

But Frisk didn’t reset the timeline at any point. They came back after dying, repeated their actions, and died again. One time purposefully falling off a ledge into a the mass of bones beneath. Another moving alongside the smaller gasterblasters and making sure each beam hit them dead on. They winced occasionally, or mustered a sound of pain, but made no move to use a healing item or bother attacking. They just kept dying. Again, and again, and again. Sans’ thrill at watching them get the suffering they deserve rapidly dissolved into confusion and unease. By the time Frisk reached something around a 29 death count and returned, Sans had had enough.

“The hell are you playing at, bucko?” Sans asked, anger seething beneath his icy tone. He rarely lost his temper, but Frisk was really testing his patience here. “What’s your plan? Are you trying to piss me off?”

Frisk doesn’t answer, although their gaze suddenly drops to the golden floor.

“Did I get it right? Is this just a sick game to you? Or are you trying to get me to lower my guard?” His grin widened once more. “Sure, I see how it is. Well, why don’t you come on over here and try taking a swing at me? For old time’s sake.” He held up his arms. “C’mon, I’ll even let you make the first move.”

Frisk looked at their knife. Sans waited in anticipation, readying another lethal magic attack to pleasantly surprise them with the moment they charged.

But Frisk didn’t take his invitation. Instead, they did something entirely more confusing: they turned, and threw the knife directly at the window pane. It shattered the glass and tumbled to the ground far below.

Sans lowered his arms, and his grin fell as far as it possibly could.

“K-kid, what…what are you doing.”

Frisk turns back to face him with a grim smile on their face. They open their mouth for the first time since their very first run.

“Kill me.”

Their voice is so small, quiet, and childish; not the kind of voice you’d expect, or ever want, to hear speak those words.

“What…was that?”

“Please kill me, Sans,” Frisk says, their smile becoming strained.

“Uh…dunno where you’ve been, kid, but I’ve been killing you this whole time.”

“How many times?” Frisk asks softly, as their smile fades. Their voice is even closer to a whisper now.

“29 or something,” Sans replies. “Heh. That…that’s the number of hotdogs I could stack on your head, back in the day. Guess you’ve had a ‘death for a ‘dog’, eh?”

Frisk doesn’t smile. They give a long, tired sigh.

“Not enough,” they mutter.

“Enough…enough what? C’mon, pal, I’m suppose to be the mysterious one around here, not you.”

Frisk shook their head.

“I’ve been mean,” they say. “I’ve…I’ve killed so many monsters.” Sans doesn’t reply, but nods. They have. In particular, they killed Papyrus, multiple times. That’s not something to be so easily forgiven.

But Sans can’t get himself to hurt Frisk right now, despite their vulnerability. Curiosity of what they were going to say was holding him back.

...well, that, and something else. Something long forgotten; faint memories of a sweet little child with a brightest smile, who managed to charm every monster they encountered, himself included.

“They were there with me the whole time,” Frisk continues, putting a hand to their head. They sounded like they were in a trance. “The voice. Just before I freed everyone, they told me to…they told me it would be easier this way. That I would never feel pain like the kind I felt on the Surface this way. I listened, and they…took my soul from me.”

“Kid, what…what are you talking about?” For once, Sans was completely clueless as to what they were referring to. Saving, sure. Time traveling, why not. But a soul-stealing voice? Was Frisk referring to a monster that absorbed their soul? But if that was the case, how was Frisk’s human body still here?

“It’s the other kid, the one who looks like me…Chara.” Frisk looked up suddenly. “B-but it’s ok, now! I got rid of them. I found them again, and the exact moment in the timeline when they took my soul, and I erased them.” Frisk fidgeted with their hands. “They were there every time I killed a monster…and even when I didn’t kill anyone. I heard them there since I fell. They kept me motivated. They kept me determined. But now, they’re gone. I’m…free, Sans. I’m f-free.” Frisk’s voice breaks. Sans stiffens. He’s not sure he can handle a crying kid right now, especially a kid he just killed multiple times. A kid who killed everyone, _and his brother_ , multiple times.

And yet, according to Frisk’s words, it was not on their own volition. Judging by the way Frisk had handled his fight, it made sense. He figured they were telling the truth.

“S-so, uh, why are you here, then?” Sans asks awkwardly. “You’re free, right? You don’t have to do this anymore…you don’t have to reset, right?”

“I want to die,” Frisk says, their voice small. “For as many times that I killed a monster, I-I want to die. Its the only way I can make up for everything I did.”

“What? Nah, kid, don’t think like that!” Knowing that he was talking to Frisk now, the _real_ Frisk, Sans is uneasy at the thought of killing them. And he absolutely would not do it again.

Then, he realized something.

“Hey, kid, this entire run, you’ve been pretty off your game. Do you mean to say that you…when you were fighting Undyne…?”

Frisk nods, staring down.

“Y-yeah. I let her kill me a bunch, too. And the other monsters…” Frisk managed another faint smile, although their body begins to tremble. “I-I did it, though. I’ve let myself be killed by every single monster in the Underground, boss or not, at least once. E-even Toriel. They all got to have their revenge on me.” Frisk’s gaze fell. “…all except Papyrus. He would never kill me, no matter what I did.”

Sans nods, a sudden pain blooming in his ribcage that he knows is not physical.

“Wow…kid, I… I don’t know what to say.”

He is completely stunned as he takes in the shaking child before him. This is not the kind of kill run he had been expecting at all. But if Frisk was being honest, and it certainly seemed like they were, then this would be the last one. Maybe. 

Then, he realizes something further; something that is bothering him the most.

“Kid...listen. I’m not gonna kill you anymore. But let me ask you one more thing.”

Frisk looks up at him questioningly. Sans lowers his voice.

“If you’re truly free from that…thing, now, why’dya do this run? I get that you wanted to be killed, but you could have easily done that while being a pacifist. I dunno, hugging monsters till they got annoyed and killed you, or something. So, why?” Why did Frisk choose to kill everyone one more time?

_Why did they have to kill Papyrus one more time?_

Frisk suddenly bites their lower lip, and Sans sees tears filling up in their eyes. They rub at them stubbornly.

“S-so I know,” Frisk manages, just as the tears begin to drip down their face, and the pitch of their normally soft voice rises. “So-so I know! S-so I know how horrible it is, without Chara there to push me on!” The pitch of their voice gets higher, and the tears thicker. “W-when Mama Toriel s-says I’m not better than the other humans, and P-P-Papyrus still believes in me and Undyne m-melts away... so I know how much it hurts me to hurt my family! So I never, _ever_ try to restart the timeline again!”

They are completely crying now, their emotionless facade breaking before the skeleton’s eyes. 

“ _K-kill me, Sans_!” they sob. “Kill me! Again, and again, and again! I deserve it! I deserve it!”

Sans feels any of his remaining anger from before melt away.

He sighs deeply, and then crouches beside Frisk, gently rubbing their back.

“Kid…Frisk…It’s alright. C’mon, try to breathe. You’re gonna be ok. It’s gonna be ok.” Frisk sits up suddenly, and throws their arms around Sans, clinging to his jacket with the persistence of an ornament on a Gyftrot's antlers.

Sans hesitates a moment, then carefully returns the embrace, feeling Frisk’s tiny body shaking beneath his fingers. Sometimes he forgot just how small Frisk was.

“I just wanna go h-home…” Frisk whimpered. “I want Mama Toriel…a-and Papyrus, and Undyne and Alphys and Asgore…a-and you, Sans! I want to love everyone again! I want everyone to love me again!”

Memories that Sans had long suppressed return to him at Frisk’s words. They were from the days after everyone returned to the Surface: their first glimpse of real stars, their first day at the beach at Undyne’s prompting, Papyrus getting his driver’s license (after many, many tests), celebrating Christmas and debating with Asgore on who got to play Santa, Toriel getting custody of Frisk when the neglect of their blood parents was revealed, hosting Frisk’s first birthday party, being considered an adoptive ‘uncle’ to Frisk, and a part of their family.

Those were the happiest days of his life. Days he promptly gave up on, the first time he awoke back in Snowdin to a much different Frisk. But now he knew. That beast he fought so many times was not _his_ Frisk. His Frisk was the child in his arms right now; a quiet and sensitive kid with a huge heart, who could only ever live with their sins, and themselves, if they ended their life over and over. All the love he used to have for Frisk came rushing back, and he hugged them impossibly tight.

“Frisk,” he mutters. “Frisk, hey…it’s ok. It’s gonna be ok. You’re free. You know everything now, and so do I. You don’t have to keep dying to punish yourself. You can fix everything, ya know? You can have your family back.”

He feels them relax slightly in his hold.

“Yeah…that’s right. It’s gonna be ok, kiddo. No need to keep torturing yourself, ok? We’ll get you back home to your family in no time.” Frisk nods against his jacket.

“I…I love you, Sans,” Frisk mumbles, tiredly. “Even if…even if you don’t love me, anymore.” Sans gently pushes them away from him for a moment.

“Kid, listen. You—no, your demon companion— has made my life hell for a long, long time. But even then, I don’t think I could ever stop loving the kid who always laughed at all my jokes, and always kept that tenderness in their heart. And that kid is you, Frisk. The real you.”

Frisk manages a watery smile.

“I-I’ll do it again,” they promise. “I’ll do it. I’ll reset one final time, and I’ll get everything right. I promise.”

Sans knew their journey was not an easy one, and even as a pacifist, Frisk had a lot left to do; or rather, to re-do. Well-trodden paths to traverse once more, boss monsters to win over, dark secrets to expose, evil flowers to defeat. Likewise, Frisk looks incredibly tired as they manage to smile at him. But there’s a sharp glint of something else in their eyes that breaks through the exhaustion.

Pure determination.

“You’ve got this, kid,” Sans says. “I know you have one final run left in you. There’s a lot of challenges you’ll have to overcome all over again…and as much as I wanna, I can’t actually help you any more than I did during your first run. Doing so might mess with the timeline, and we both wouldn’t want that. You gotta do everything the same.”

Frisk nods sagely.

“But hey. All that being said, don’t be afraid of taking it easy once in a while, alright? Come find me whenever you’re feeling low, and we’ll go to Grillby’s. Don’t worry about how far away you are, I know a shortcut or two.” He gives them his signature wink. “I’m sure Papyrus wouldn’t mind another playdate, too. And Undyne another impromptu cooking lesson in our house. We’ll all be here for you…even if we don’t know it yet. Just remember that you’re never alone, alright? 'Cause, like I once told you...someone really cares about you.”

“Yeah.” Frisk sniffs and wipes their eyes. 

“Great,” Sans remarks, his grin suddenly turning wry. “Looks like your ready to be a bone-nafide hero once more.”

Frisk can’t help but giggle. Sans realizes just how much he missed the sound of it.

Their smile doesn’t waver even when their tone turns serious.

“Sans…one last thing.”

“Hm?”

“I can’t actually reset on my own. I…I need your help.”

Sans nods. He knew the last thing he had to do.

“Yeah. I know.” He pulls Frisk closer to him once more. Frisk keeps their arms wrapped around him, their face buried in his jacket shoulder.

They stay in the embrace for a few moments. Then, Sans gives them one final, comforting squeeze.

“Ready, kid?” he whispers. He feels Frisk nod.

He takes a breath. The blue of his eye reignites, as he calls upon his magic for the last time.

He uses the attack quickly and with full force, knowing the faster it is, the less painful it will be. He hears their soul break, and Frisk vanishes from his grasp in an instant.

This time, they do not come back to the hall.

After a few quiet moments, he feels the timeline begin to undo itself, as the hallway starts to collapse around him.

Sans did not consider himself an emotional skeleton. But he wiped at his strangely moist eyesockets in spite of himself. Somehow…he’d actually done it. Resets were finally over. If Frisk succeeded in one more pacifist run, everything would turn out ok. For the both of them.

And he didn’t doubt Frisk for a second.

His smile widens for just a moment as stares at the place his favorite kid spent their last moments. He lowers his voice to a whisper, despite knowing there was no one around to hear, to speak his final words in the unraveling timeline.

“Get dunked on.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: When Frisk says they erased Chara, it's implying the player went through the game files and manually deleted their data. Hope your time wasn't too bad. And thank you for reading!


End file.
